


Rare Birds and Strange Beasts

by psychomachia



Category: Am zin | Running Out of Time (1999)
Genre: M/M, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 02:43:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you know we will happen on the way to each other in our sleep?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rare Birds and Strange Beasts

**Author's Note:**

> All poems come from the anthology of translated Chinese poems by Kenneth Rexroth. This includes the summary.

_What is the matter with me?  
With all of the men in the world.  
Why can I only think of you?_  
\--Anonymous (Six Dynasties)

The first indication Inspector Ho Sheung-Sang has that he's not alone is the smoke blowing in the room. There is a breeze moving over him that should not be there, considering he left the window shut.

He should be surprised that there is someone in the darkness with him, breathing quietly with an occasional gleam of metal reflected in the moonlight, but he's not. There is only one person who would dare to go where he was not wanted or expected with Ho around.

"What time is it?" he asks as he turns on the lamp near the bed.

"Almost midnight." The man sits by the bed, peeling oranges with a small paring knife. Bits of rind fall to the floor as Ho sits up.

"I'd ask what you're doing here," Ho says evenly, "but I know you. So I just want to know how long you've been here."

"Less than an hour. You looked like you were having a bad dream."

"Since you're still here, it looks like I haven't woke up yet."

Cheung smiles and extends his hand, now filled with slices of orange. When Ho opens his mouth to protest, he slides a slice, his fingers lingering on Ho's lips. Involuntarily, he licks the fingers and the smile widens.

It's another game between them to see who moves first and Ho's not about to let the bastard win again. He ups the ante by biting one and disappointingly, Cheung concedes, moving his fingers away and wiping them on the sheet. He sets the remaining slices and the knife down on the table.

He has won that one, but Ho realizes as he yawns, that he's about to lose the next round.

"You're falling asleep again," Cheung says, amused. His hands, sticky and sweet smelling, move over Ho's forehead and push him back down to the pillow.

He leans over, his voice low and intimate in Ho's ear. "I wouldn't worry. I'll still be here in the morning. You can try to take me to jail then."

Ho would say something about this, but his eyes have already slid shut. It doesn't matter that he's already forgotten what his last dream was about. All of them have the same man in them and in so many of them, he's dying, blood dripping from his mouth as he kisses Ho, leaving him with red lips and the knowledge that whatever happens in the future, it will never be enough.

____________________  
Temple Street at night is not a place to go if you want any form of peace. Ho's there to get some pork buns from his favorite stand and to avoid hitting any of the tourists, all of whom seem more interested in getting their wallets stolen or trying to find where all of the prostitutes are hanging out.

It's the sight of a woman in red that tears him away from these bitter thoughts.

Her long black hair streams across her back. She's wearing red silk and he can't turn his eyes away. She could be from one of those houses, in which case it's a police responsibility to take her in.

He follows her through the crowd, dodging the buyers and the sellers with ease. He's keeping up with her, but she always manages to stay out of reach, equally maneuvering through the throng.

Near a stand selling videotapes and DVDs he'd rather not ask legal questions about, he loses track of her for a second as a group of women block his vision and when he looks again, she's gone. There's a garbage truck in front of him and he wonders if she's slipped behind that.

When he looks behind it, she is nowhere to be found, nor is anyone else. It seems strange, given the noise behind him and the vast amounts of people that were stopping him only moments by him. He turns back around to see if she's escaped past him somehow.

His head cracks against something and he passes out.

He wakes up to darkness and tries to blink. There's cloth against his eyes and metal against his wrists linking him to something that rattles when he shakes it. His other hand is free, but that means nothing when he's sitting on his ass in the dark with metal bars pressing up against it. From the sweet scent wafting in his nose, the woman's standing in front of him.

In a voice much too deep for someone wearing a dress, he hears her say, "Honestly, you have to look where you're going. I can't always be around to get you out of trouble."

Damn it all, he knows who she is.

"Cheung," he hisses. "What the hell are you up to now?"

"If you haven't figured it out yet," Cheung says, moving closer until the two of them are pressing together, "I'm not going to give you any more clues."

Her-- no, his--mouth bends low. His pants are unzipped and soon, everything below the waist is hanging out at his knees. It's too hot here, he's getting a cramp in his shoulder, and for all he knows, there could be seventeen tourists taking pictures of this as an example of local Hong Kong color. There are so many reasons why he should be kicking Cheung in the balls right now.

He'll get right to that and to arresting that bastard up on charges of assaulting a police officer, just as soon as he's able to think clearly again. It isn't going to happen any time soon because Cheung has just started using his tongue and there is suction and friction happening here.

It's not a surprise the man got away with so much given how adept that tongue is. Ho hears himself making an incredibly stupid gasp and now he really wants to hit Cheung but that would mean that this would stop and that's not an option.

Everything's being drawn out of him, and he wants it back. He wants his life back, the one where he doesn't know that people like Cheung exist. He doesn't want to live in a world where every half-assed criminal he sees is just a pale imitation of someone who can't be copied.

He wants Cheung to finally stop teasing him and just finally let him fucking come.

Only the last wish is granted.

Ho wakes up. There's a metallic taste in his mouth, and he spits out the object on his tongue. A small key falls to the ground.

This was two days ago.

____________________  
"I put a bomb in your kitchen," Cheung says as Ho walks into the room. He glares at the man, whose smiling face is an invitation to punch. It's way too early to be this cheery about things. The only mitigating factor is the cup of coffee sitting on the table, clearly waiting for him.

"It's not a bomb. It's never a bomb. The day it's actually a bomb is the day that Wong actually gets one over on me."

Cheung turns the page. "True. But I was feeling nostalgic. There's a nice picture of you in the paper, by the way. I should add it to my collection."

"Remind me why I haven't handcuffed you and hauled you off yet. I'll give you fifteen seconds."

"Because you'd miss me."

"Try again." Ho pointedly looks at his watch.

"Because you want to know what I'm up to and if you hand me over to good old Wong, you'll never know."

"I'm still not convinced. Time's almost up."

"Because you've never managed to do it before and you knew just what would happen when you left me alone in the car. Because you were forced to take some time off and the only thing you can think of doing is sleeping until you're allowed to come back to cases that will never live up to anything I did. And because you already know the real reason and you don't want to say it out loud."

They're looking at each other now, and Cheung's not smiling. Their mutual stare goes on for a while until Ho decides to let Cheung win this one and he averts his eyes.

"Fine," he says, sitting down, and picking up the cup of coffee. "But if I catch you planning any sort of heist, robbery, scam, or scheme, I will make you wish that they had shot you back then."

Cheung's smile borders on smugness here and rather than look at it, Ho picks up a section of newspaper to block out his face.

They spend the rest of the day watching old Shaw Brothers' movies on the television. In between Gordon Liu and Wong Yue kicking ass, Ho finds his eyes closing again.

There's no blood in this dream, just him driving Cheung in a car to nowhere that never runs out of gas. It's silent all the way there, and neither one of them feels the need to say anything.

Ho wakes up to the sounds of David Chiang and Ti Lung fighting off a horde of villains. His head's lying on Cheung's lap, and if he didn't know better, he'd swear there was a hand in his a few minutes ago. He thinks of complaining about it, and decides his energy is spent better watching Cheung stare engrossed at the TV screen as someone's head just gets kicked in.

____________________  
Because Ho has just that type of luck, the power goes out when he's in the elevator coming back from a meeting with the president of To Enterprises about the arrest of a suspect in a recent burglary. The car jerks and stops, and he swears. Emergency lighting kicks on and the car is flooded in red light.

He reaches for the emergency phone and realizes when the receiver comes off in his hand, now a useless lump of plastic, that someone clearly needs to be shot. He's not surprised to see that his cell phone has no reception. Why would anything be working right now?

Then he feels a puff of air on his neck. It raises the hairs on the back of it and he's scratching it before he realizes that somehow, someone is standing behind him. He whirls around, automatically grabbing for his gun.

The man in front of him laughs, raising his hands. His laugh and face are equally irritatingly familiar.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Ho holsters his gun, but only because it would do no good to shoot Cheung. He'd still find a way to come back.

Cheung points to the roof of the car. "You were too busy cursing out the phone to notice. Really, this temper of yours will get you into trouble one day."

"No, I wasn't. I know when I'm alone and when I'm not and I want to know how you got into here when just a few seconds ago, it was just me."

Cheung says nothing, but he doesn't need to. His hands are clearly answering Ho by changing the subject, specifically, to that of removing Ho's pants again. At some point, Ho really has to stop this. He'll keep telling himself this.

The next few minutes are hard to remember, but Ho's fairly sure they involved the same lips, although this time, they're no longer painted in red lipstick. And he's moaning the same stupid moans and Cheung's managed to get even better if that's possible, and before he knows it, all the lights in the elevator go out just as he climaxes.

It's dark and he feels a sense of loss. He steadies himself against the back of the car and reaches out. His hands reach empty air.

The lights come back on and the elevator starts back up. He's by himself, Cheung having vanished just as frustratingly as he arrived.

Ho looks at the state of his clothing, now rumpled and missing at least one button on his shirt. He doesn't want to think about his pants. He's only got a few minutes until he reaches the ground floor.

When the elevator door opens, there are two young police officers waiting for him along with an old man in coveralls. One of the officers steps forward. Ho tries his best to look stressed and irritated rather than someone coming down from a spectacular orgasm.

"Sorry, Inspector. It looks like someone went wrong with the wiring. They said they've been having problems with it recently. Maybe the electrician didn't fix it properly the last time."

Ho turns and glares back at the elevator. It's annoyingly empty. "Did you see anyone out of the ordinary around the area?"

The officer looks puzzled. "Like who, sir?"

"Never mind." It's pointless to ask this question. If Cheung did it, he'd never be caught at the scene. Just to be on the safe side, Ho gives the elderly technician walking towards the elevator a suspicious and thorough scrutiny.

It's probably not him, but with Cheung, you can't be too careful.

This was yesterday.

____________________  
It's night out and the television is off.

They are drinking at the table. A green bottle sits between the two of them and the glasses are full of a cheap red wine that Ho's coworker gave him a few months ago.

"Why are you really here?" Ho asks him. He thinks he's between his third and fourth glass, but it's hard to tell since the bottle looks more full than it should be. He thinks Cheung may still be on his first, which is another reason to be annoyed.

"It's been almost three days and you still haven't guessed it. At least by the end of our last meeting, you had figured most of it out." Cheung's fingers are tapping at the rim of the glass and it's about a minute later that Ho realizes he's been staring at them.

"I thought at first it was just to torment me. And then I thought maybe you had some sort of incredibly elaborate plan. Then I went back to screwing with me. Eventually, I gave up because with you, it's easier to just figure out what you're going to do rather than why you're doing it." Ho drains the rest of his wine and Cheung pours him another glass.

"I would have thought what I was doing told you why I was doing it."

Ho doesn't mention that this has occurred to him. It seems unnecessary since the one reason he can't name is the one that they both know is the true one. It's something he can't say, and he knows that Cheung can but won't until he hears it from Ho. It's a standoff and neither one of them is going to give in. No winners or losers here.

There is only one other question he can ask now, and he wonders why it took him three days to do it.

"Why do you keep coming back?"

"Because I know you're still looking for me."

The glass is empty again and he no longer remembers why this would be a bad idea to let a thief into your bed, especially when you know he'll never stay long.

The kiss Ho gives Cheung is not the gentle one on the cheek he gave him in the bowling alley. It's a full one on the lips and his hand goes around the back of Cheung's head to pull him closer. Once again, Ho is the one to lose as he stops to breathe, breaking the contact between the two of them.

Cheung pulls back, licking his lips. "Now think if you had done this back then. I might have taken you with me when I left."

Ho doesn't know whether he's scared or disappointed. He thinks it's a bit of both.

____________________  
Ho's not in an elevator or alley this time and he know it's Cheung's hands that are moving over him from the beginning. He's invited this. He's the one who told him to come inside, to invade his life, to mess him up so that he can never be fixed by anything normal again.

For better or worse, there will never be anyone like him again.

Cheung's hands are slim and cool, moving against his skin with an intimate knowledge of what will make him cry out and what touches will cause him to arch his back like a goddamned cat. He has always known far too much about him and that is what pisses off Ho the most.

Because for all that Ho has investigated, researched, and interrogated from other people, he still doesn't know really why Cheung chose him in the first place. Maybe it was one of those fated things. Wong said, "Lunatic meets lunatic," and that explains why they keep doing all these insanely stupid things like being together when there are so many good reasons to not be.

Cheung's lying against him, skin to skin, and it's still so damn hot outside that the chill of his body feels wonderful to him, even beyond what those clever fingers are doing to him right now. He doesn't want to give this up, but he knows he'll still lose this final game.

There's no gimmicks, no cross-dressing, no handcuffs or any form of bondage. It's just Cheung watching him as he always has, with that same intense focus that he had from the beginning, even before he knew who the man was. And if this is all he has left in his life, it will have to be enough.

Cheung may leave but as long as he can come back, Ho will keep an eye out for him.

____________________  
Ho opens his eyes. His hands are sticky and the stained sheets lie crumpled at the foot of the bed. The window is open, blowing in the smell of smoke that overrides the scent of oranges still lingering in the room. He turns on the lamp and Cheung is not there.

There is money in an ashtray on the bedside, colorful packets marked with 10,000 and 100,000 amounts. The Jade Emperor on the top bill seems to be smiling at him. Someone has written, "See you next year" on his face.

Ho takes out a pack of matches from the nightstand and lights one, setting it to the paper. Nothing but ash remains.

He goes back to sleep.

 _The dew on the garlic  
Is soon gone after sunrise  
The dew that evaporated this morning  
Will descend again in tomorrow's dawn.  
Man dies and is gone,  
And when has anybody ever come back?_  
\--T'ien Hung


End file.
